Conversations 7 : A Personal Twist
by Helena Fallon
Summary: Spencer remembers an incident from when he was on sick leave and Hotch allows him time to pursue an idea about a case which Gideon had previously dismissed. The outcome is a surprise for all concerned.


Conversations 7: A Personal Twist 

**By Helena Fallon**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and no infringement of copyright is intended: I have borrowed the characters to play with a few of mine.**

Spencer stood alone in the conference room: it had a round table to signify the respect for each other's contributions that they brought here and where everyone was an equal and encouraged to share their ideas. Or so it should be, but Spencer was not sure about that at the moment, this case was not going well.

He had seemed to be clashing with Gideon since the start, although Hotch was trying his best to soothe the increasingly irritable older man. He knew what was wrong even if the other junior members wanted to ignore the tetchiness in the older agent. Gideon had taken the minimum time of personal leave after the Frank Breitkopf case. It had been a public relations disaster for the BAU as well as a very personal tragedy for Jason Gideon and Sarah's family, and there had been two further deaths and a kidnapping. Spencer was thankful that he and J.J had found Tracey Belle alive in Mary Breitkopf's New York apartment. She would need counselling after such a traumatic experience but she was essentially unharmed a minor miracle considering what Frank had done to the older women.

The aftermath for the department was still being felt. Gideon was not at his best, there were times when Reid caught Hotch watching him closely; they were both looking for the breaking point. Gideon was moody; there was an edginess that sent Spencer, the psychologist, into observation mode. Gideon was suffering from post-traumatic stress but he was insisting that he was functional and that it was better that he was working than alone in his new apartment. Reid surmised that Hotch was torn because Max, the chief psychologist, had thrown the ball back into his court saying that he had to taken the required minimum time, but then it was up to Hotch to assess him in the field. Reid wondered if Hotch was worried that if he didn't let Gideon back then he was more likely to fall into the black hole of depression and who would be with him at home to monitor that.

Reid also sensed that something else was worrying Hotch and he wondered if Erin Strauss was pressuring him because of Gideon's behaviour during the Breitkopf case. She was known for being very media sensitive and the media had had a field day with the events Frank had put into motion. Spencer didn't usually get involved with the finer points of the Bureau's politics and tried to keep well under the wire. But the team had all been exposed during the past year to such an extent that an outsider might think that they were a law unto themselves. They were not of course: Elle had been cleared but Hotch obviously was not convinced of her innocence, and she had left. Morgan's early experiences had come back to haunt him, but he had testified with out flinching. JJ and himself had made the wrong decision out in the field, but they had come out of the experience despite the psychological scars. Both had admitted to each other that they couldn't go backwards, and were trying to use the experience to be better agents.

Spencer had felt for some time that Gideon was retreating more and more into himself. A casual observer might think that this was natural now that the student had become a competent agent in the field, and the mentor was giving him room to develop with the whole of the team. When Spencer had first arrived he was very much a father figure but then he had had his first depressive episode after the Boston bombing. Reid had continued to visit Gideon when he could but the ties really began to lessen when Gideon returned to the BAU, but this time Hotch was in charge. Hotch was a different leader, Spencer had adapted and appreciated what he could learn from the other man.

So here he was at 9 p.m. on a Saturday alone in the department. Everyone else had gone home to get some sleep on Friday, after what seemed like a wild goose chase in Pennsylvania. However, the case was nagging at Reid because it reminded him of something during his sick leave.

He stared once more at his notes of the three definite victims: all in their early 20's, college educated, good jobs and seemingly from very ordinary backgrounds, all of them were Caucasian, and under 5 foot 4 inches. All had lived alone and did not seem to be involved in a relationship, they all used public transport. This much the team agreed with but there seemed no other apparent linking factor. Gideon had been dismissive of the case from the start saying that it was too random. However, they had been sent to Pennsylvania because the Governor's wife was a friend of Erin Strauss. The team had not liked the interference; Strauss was not liked because she had too many friends in high places.

The team had gone to Philadelphia and had reviewed all the material. But Gideon seemed to sway the others into accepting a rather vague profile and he assured the police that they probably didn't have a serial killer in their midst. Gideon pointed out the possibility of 3 different murderers who may have had an unknown connection with each of the victims. He asserted that the method of disposal of the bodies, washed and in bin liners, was very common. Besides, if you wanted to kill someone: a small woman was easier to overpower, strangulation was effective, washed bodies removed evidence. Bin liners were easily available; you needed transport to the deserted dumping ground but if you knew the area, it was still fairly easy to get away with it in a big country like the U.S.

However, Reid initially noticed how none had been native to the state, although they seemed to have worked there for 2 to 3 years. Reid took up the notes from three files again and reviewed the personal details once more.

Megan Saddler, 24, English graduate of NYU, lived in Philadelphia for 23 months, worked as a librarian. Mother and brother were still living in Trenton, New Jersey. Seemed to be quiet but liked at work. No boy friend. Hobbies: member of music society, theatre club, reading group. Mother had reported her missing after not hearing from her for a week.

Joanna Latimer, 24, maths graduate of Oregon, only child, both parents died with in past three years, originally from Eugene, where both parents had taught in local high schools. Worked as an accountant in Philadelphia for 3 years. Reported missing by company secretary because she had not been seen for 4 days and not answering door. Described as pleasant and conscientious. Nothing known about a boyfriend. Hobbies: art galleries, choral music and needlework guild.

Faye Wallender, 23, French graduate, University of Michigan. Raised in Albany, N.Y. Only child, mother died when she was 20 and father was an alcoholic. Worked in a city bookshop. Reported missing by work colleague after she didn't come to work for 5 days; her apartment seemed tidy but no indication that she had packed anything to go away on a trip. Fridge full of food. Described by neighbours and colleagues as nice, no problems. Never talked about her personal life. Hobbies: reading, photography and family history.

The lead detective, Doug Vernon, thought that he had a possible serial killer because of the similarities in the cases: the women all showed signs of strangulation when found. All were dumped naked, wrapped in black bin liners in deserted beauty spots hundreds of miles apart in the state. All were in varying degrees of decomposition. Megan had gone missing in January 05 and had been found in April 06, Joanna had been reported missing in March 04 and found at the beginning of July 06. Faye had gone missing in May 07 and found last week at the end of July. All showed signs that the windpipe had been crushed as if by very strong hands,

Reid kept being drawn back to their photographs, not the ones from the crime scenes, but those that families and friends had provided. He decided to follow through the nagging idea that refused to be reasoned away, he dialled hoping the conscientious detective would still be in his office.

"Detective Vernon, Dr. Reid, …Yes, I'm still working on the case, I had a thought and Agent Hotchner gave me permission to run with an idea before we have a meeting on Monday to review the case." He chatted away, smoothing the ruffled feathers that he knew Gideon had caused in their five-day stay where they had gone over things but Reid had not been satisfied with the profile produced.

"Do you have an inventory of things in their apartments…oh marvellous, you couldn't fax them could you? " he soothed again, putting on as much charm as he could muster. "Really, that's great. I'm still looking for a connection. If I come up with anything, I'll keep you in the loop. Thank you for your time…Yeah, I've got some one waiting for me at home too…Goodnight and thank you for your help."

Gideon had said that the parameters were initially too broad, that these could just be random killings. Just because they were strangled and wrapped in black bags, well it was common. Gideon had dismissed his theory but there was something and he may just have found his link. He had spent two days looking for similarities to link the victims for a more refined computer search of the databases of missing persons and bodies found.

He went back to Garcia's lair, there was quite a list forming of missing women that fitted his refined parameters: Caucasian, aged 21-25, 5 foot 4 and below, of medium build, college educated with no apparent partner, no car, not living in the same state as family, interest in public lectures, within easy travelling of a university campus. Then there was the other list of bodies fitting his given description but found strangled, wrapped naked in black bin bags in deserted locations. Gideon was correct, it was a common mode of disposal, but then he began to see a pattern; some of the names were on both lists.

Spencer Reid did not go home until nearly midnight; he found Catherine sitting up in bed reading assignments and muttering to her self.

"God! How could they spell that wrong … even with spell check!" he watched her as he took of his clothes as quietly as he could so as not to disturb her concentration.

He wandered into the ensuite bathroom and turned on the shower. He was tired but his thoughts were crowding in, tumbling over themselves for priority. He tried to think of other things away from work. They had moved here a month ago and already he felt totally at home in the house. Catherine had organised the move as he'd been too busy as usual.

He smiled to himself when he remembered how on the way home, after lunch with the Hotchners, she had said that she'd fill in the proper contact forms. Spencer had printed them off as soon as he got home just in case she got cold feet. Hotch was not surprised when he had quietly slipped them onto his desk the next day. In fact, that lunch had been significant for both men and they now seemed more at ease with each others company and would share a joke if on their own. He also noticed how Hotch was working more with him and when they did so they often discussed the house or what he had been doing in his spare time. Hotch was pleased that Reid's relationship with his father was continuing and was strengthened with every meeting. Reid tried to turn off from the work he'd been doing all day but there was something he needed to ask Catherine and he didn't want to worry her.

He pulled on a green towelling robe and went back into the bedroom. She smiled up at him as she put aside the assignment,

"Oh I've had enough of that lot, I've been marking since I got back from Richmond."

"How are Marcus, MaryAnne and the little ones?"

"Fine, Lucy has made you a monster cookie. She says you have to go soon because my cooking is not as good as yours…I refuse to feel snubbed, I know you are the best monster cookie maker in the world."

He lay on top of the quilt chuckling, "I'll have to ring tomorrow and thank her, I'll take it with me into work," he added, thinking it would be a treat alongside the home-made sandwiches Catherine would insist on making him."

"So you're going in again…are you getting anywhere?"

"Actually, I think I may be and there is something I want to ask you about?" perhaps he should have left it 'til morning but he wouldn't have slept well; he was too fired up with the details.

"What's wrong?" Catherine asked, she was giving him all her attention now, her face shone with its alertness and Spencer marvelled again at the treasure he shared his life with.

"Do you remember, about 9 months ago, I was on sick leave and you had to give a lecture at the university one Saturday morning. I said I'd meet you off the train and we'd booked a late lunch at 'Nature's Table'?"

Catherine's face mirrored the unease she felt, "You mean when I thought I'd been followed by that man who had attended the lecture?"

"Yeah…" Spencer confirmed softly, wondering if it was the right time to pursue this and how to explain further without upsetting her.

"You think he has something to do with your case?" said Catherine, her genius mind swiftly made the connections.

"Perhaps, or I may be chasing wild geese…it's just there are certain similarities between the victims and …"

"Me," she interjected, "You'd better explain or I'll not sleep,"

He reached across the small distance between them and slipped his arms around her drawing her into a protective embrace, "Now listen carefully, if I'm right, you did all the right things to discourage him. If he had followed you he would have seen that you had a partner and furthermore, we went back to my apartment after the meal so he would not know your address. So he's not going to come back is that clear?"

He felt her nod her head but sensed that she had tensed up within his arms with the memory.

"Catherine, can you remember what he looked like, I mean enough for a photofit?"

"I can do better than that, I had that lecture recorded. I later edited it before putting the disc in the library of lectures to be used by other departments, I've still got the master…he's on it at then end because he came up to the podium."

"Really!" Spencer couldn't believe his luck, his mind raced ahead with all the possibilities from having the man's likeness. He squeezed her tightly with the enthusiasm that was coursing through his veins.

"Do you want me to show you now? asked Catherine, knowing the answer because they were so alike when caught up with an idea. She was already beginning to wriggle free before he replied.

She grabbed her electric blue silk robe and was on her way out of the room before Spencer had pushed himself off the bed.

He found her in her study, going through a box of DVDs having already switched on the computer.

"Here we are," she said triumphantly, and very quickly she fast-forwarded to the close of the lecture. Several people had approached the podium at the end to give comments or to ask for clarification but then he saw the man, middle 20's to early 30's, well dressed of average build, entering her personal space and Catherine's demeanour changed. As a psychologist he saw that she was erecting an invisible barrier, she physically tried to withdraw a little to keep an acceptable space between them. Her once smiling and open face had become closed and officious, she was not encouraging any conversation, but the man either did not read the cues she was giving or he was choosing to ignore them.

"I'll make you a copy of this end bit," she said reaching into a stack to find an empty disc.

"Yeah, I'll be able to use it on any other footage we might have of the other victims," Spencer replied, his task now seeming to be within reach. The facial recognition programme would perhaps help to connect him with one or hopefully several missing women. He felt he could go to bed now and get some rest. He waited for Catherine to complete her task and they returned to bed, both grateful that he had been there to meet her that day.

After a few minutes she spoke into the darkness, "Spencer, You still awake?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, what's wrong?" he moved closer to her, putting his arm protectively over her body.

"I've just remembered something I didn't tell you, He stopped his car at the bus stop while I was waiting and offered me a lift. I refused saying that I was taking the bus and fortunately there were a couple of other people waiting at the stop as well. But when I got on the bus, I wrote down the car number on my lecture prompt sheet for that day …just in case something had happened I suppose I thought perhaps someone would find it," her voice trailed off.

"You still got that sheet?"

"Well you know we historians hate throwing away anything. We're always thinking of future generations finding our bits and pieces and trying to make some sense out of them," she tried to lighten the enormity of what she was saying. "It will be filed under Babylonian lectures, in date order, in the top filing cabinet drawer. I'll get it for you tomorrow."

He moved even closer, "It might be useful, even if it was a hire car," He thought back to that day and how shaken his normal confident Catherine had been when he had met her. For the rest of that night they lay closely entwined to keep any bad dreams banished from their bed.

Reid's Sunday was very busy, requesting extra details to be faxed to him and down loading footage from the cases of possible victims. The time flew by but at least he had happy memories as he munched on the food he had brought with him. He remembered to call little Lucy and to thank her for his delicious monster cookie. He re-assured her that he would rather be feeding the donkeys and the ducks, which was a favourite activity when he and Catherine looked after Lucy and Ben.

His mind crossed referenced the data from the different cases as it came in. Finally by the evening he felt he had something to present to the team tomorrow, but first he had promised Hotch to give him a progress call.

"Hi, Hotch I hope it's not inconvenient," he asked as he rang at 9 p.m.

"No, Spencer, Jack's in bed and we were just chatting, nothing of great importance. Did you get any where with your idea?" he asked, genuinely hoping that the earnest young agent had not wasted his precious free time. Hotch could understand Gideon's assessment, but Hotch sensed that there was something more in this, it was rare for Reid to persist against his mentor on a case. He thought back to Philadelphia and the shock that went around the room assigned to the team, when Reid did not automatically endorse Gideon's profile. He had quietly stated that they were missing a connection, and perhaps a little more time would lead them to see things differently.

Gideon had snapped at Reid saying that his years of experience told him that this was a case of three unrelated murders and to accept that they sometimes had to face the fact that not all cases were connected or could be solved. The team was quiet; they had not liked being sent to the city because their boss was friendly with the state's Governor and Hotch privately wondered if Strauss was looking to use this case in some way against himself.

"Hotch, I have made progress and ...well if I'm right then we are dealing with a serial killer who's been at work for a few years."

" Are you ready to give a presentation to the team tomorrow at 9.00?"

"Yes, I'm still awaiting some data to come in to my requests but I've got enough to put my case,"

"I look forward to hearing it then…Go and spend some time with Catherine. Goodnight, Reid" Hotch put down his phone and thought that tomorrow would be difficult for both mentor and protégé, but it had to come one day, it was just that Hotch had not thought it would come so soon."

Spencer had arrived at 7:30 the next day and went to collect any other faxes and email attachments that were relevant to his searches. When Garcia arrived about 15 minutes later, she demanded to know what he had been doing in her domain. He quickly filled her in about his weekend activities.

"Why didn't you call me, I'd have helped. Is there anything I can do now?" suddenly all serious and amazed that her 'junior G man' had done so much on his own.

Spencer was grateful and set her to continue the work on various video camera footage with the facial recognition programme. Then he went to arrange the conference room to his liking and to keep out of the way until the appointed time. At around 9 a. m. the team began to gather with their cups of coffee. Morgan and Emily came in first chatting but became subdued with the contents of the room. J.J. followed on their heels, then Hotch who gave him a re-assuring nod and finally Gideon entered, he swiftly scanned the room and noted, like the others, that the expected 3 victims had been joined on the display board by other female faces. He said nothing but looked hard at Reid, realising that their youngest agent had been busy.

Hotch began after Gideon had taken a seat, "Reid had an idea about the Pennsylvania case, and I gave him permission to use the departments resources over the weekend to see if it went anywhere. I know as much as the rest of you, so let us listen to what he has gathered together," he said evenly.

Spencer stepped before the display board, "I want you to look at these faces, what do you see?" he asked as he stepped to one side.

The team looked, all wondering what is was that their colleague wanted them to see. Spencer watched their reactions: J.J. was carefully scrutinising the board but her face mirrored her puzzlement, Emily spoke first, "Well besides the most obvious that they are all women in their early 20s, with dark hair ranging from brunette to deep auburn, nothing" she sounded bemused. Spencer noted that her eyes betrayed a look of benign pity.

"They're all Caucasian, are they all small like the 3 Penn. Victims?" asked J.J.

"Yes," Spencer confirmed, "Anything else that strikes you about them?" Reid persisted.

The faces round the table looked puzzled, Gideon was quiet, his face a neutral mask. Hotch observed the group dynamics. Morgan and Emily glanced towards Gideon as if to find answers in his direction and then Emily looked at Hotch. J.J. continued to look at the board of photographs as if spell bound by the number of mostly smiling faces.

"They're all got freckles, " said J.J. her voice sounded unsure.

"And…" Reid pressed. But the group fell into a strained silence.

Morgan broke the silence, "Jeez man! I don't know what you're seeing," he exclaimed.

"What do you see, Morgan?" Reid quietly repeated the question for him.

Morgan thought it best to humour their genius, "Look man they're just women, you know, plain ordinary looking women," he stated shrugging slightly as he expressed his opinion.

"Precisely," replied Spencer softly, "The sort of women who'd not be noticed in a crowd, those plain women who no one remembers because they lead quiet lives. They do not draw attention to themselves in their dress or the way they live, in essence, the sort of women who are usually only missed by their immediate families. But these women have other things in common, he clicked on the display panel to reveal a check list which he ran through for them.

"All of these women are aged between 21 and 25. All are college graduates, all were in work but had few close friends. They did not live in their home state, nor where they had graduated. All lived alone, they were not in a known relationship, all used public transport. All had rather quiet interests, these were not the type of women who would spend an evening in a bar, disco or partying. They had lead quiet lives while at college, with a small circle of friends, and tended to be studious compared with their more extrovert contemporaries. They all lived within easy travelling of a college campus and they all had in their possession literature about public university lectures. Family and friends have confirmed that they did follow up interests through these lectures."

Reid stopped and assessed his audience: they were silent taking in the scenario he was producing.

"So let us imagine our unsub targets these plain intelligent women. They are flattered when they meet him at a lecture because it implies a shared interest. He takes the time to talk to them, perhaps by suggesting coffee while on the campus. It's all very normal, unthreatening, he might get them to reveal a little about themselves. He only continues if he thinks they live alone.

He may suggest a further meeting but he's very careful to make this a daytime meeting, in a public place, so again to re-assure the woman that he's a nice sensitive guy, going slowly to gain their confidence. If he really likes what he sees but the woman is shy, he may stalk her and then engineer a further meeting, perhaps on a busy street but again in the daytime to make it all seem unthreatening and normal."

"But," said Emily, "These are college graduates surely they were more experienced than a 17 year old, being flattered by the attention."

"Emily, you are not a plain woman, you have an air of confidence about you, you are tall and thin and can dress in the latest fashions. You go into bars on your own. You know how to confidently socialise with people because you have been brought up to do that due to the very nature of your parents' work. You do not think as a plain woman, who went through college with little or no experience of a steady boyfriend, who tended to bury themselves in their studies for some recognition of their existence." Reid gently countered.

"At some stage," Reid continued, "he gains their confidence enough to get them to the place he is living, which is probably a house, they probably go at night time and it is there that they are killed. However, this is all quite early in the relationship because these woman have not told their families or colleagues that they have a boyfriend."

"Why not, you'd think that they'd want to broadcast it?" asked J.J.

"These woman are not young teenagers, they don't want to announce to family and friends that they have a boyfriend only for it to fizzle out very quickly. No, shy, plain people tend to keep their private lives very private until they are sure of the situation," replied Spencer. Hotch quietly smiled thinking how closely some of this could be perhaps applied to Reid's relationship with Catherine. He suddenly wondered where they had met; he decided to file away that question for a later date and when they were alone.

I did a search of the relevant databases and came out with quite a list of possible names of missing women who fit these parameters. There are 60."

There was a stunned silence, but Spencer broke it as he continued, "I then searched for bodies of naked women found strangled, sheeted in bin liners and left at beauty spots and I came up with 16 possible matches. I contacted the relevant police departments and had details faxed to me. Some of the investigations even had CCTV footage of the victim before her disappearance, so I could use the facial recognition programme."

"But we don't know what the unsub looks like?" asserted Morgan.

"I think we do, I'll tell you how one possible victim escaped his attentions. About 9 months ago, the Theology department of Virginia University was running a series of Saturday lectures. One concerned the Babylonian culture, at the end of this lecture the unsub approached the woman lecturing. She felt uncomfortable by his manner, she is superficially plain but Dr. Fox has travelled widely and has far more confidence than the unsub recognised. She gave him the brush off and went to catch the bus to the station. While waiting at the stop, he drove up in his car and offered her lift, which she declined, but she felt so uneasy that she wrote down his car number. She felt he had followed her to the station, when the train came she deliberately found an occupied compartment and sat next to another woman.

Dr. Fox was met at Alexandria by her boyfriend and they went together to a friend's restaurant where they had arranged to have a late lunch. She told him briefly what had happened and how she felt that he had followed her, even off the train. He re-assured her but they decided to go to the boyfriend's apartment instead of the woman's just in case. He was vigilant walking home but he was not aware of being followed. The next week when she had to go to the campus for a normal day of lectures, the boyfriend went with her and worked in the library, but she has not seen the man since. It was only on Saturday night that I found out that the lecture had been filmed and that she had the master DVD with the man's approach at the end…I'm going to play it for you now."

The screen came to life. There was a lecture hall podium, on the screen behind was a map of the extent of the Babylonian empire, but it was the small womanly figure who had just finished the lecture that held their attention. Only Hotch and Gideon now truly understood the significance of this case for the young man. An elderly cleric was given the reference of her latest article and then a man, Caucasian around 30, Hotch thought, stood a little too close to her. He judged by comparing Catherine's height with the unsub, that he was 5 foot 10 and broad shouldered, the well cut mid-grey suit probably hid muscled arms because his wrists and hands looked strong: a weight-lifter he concluded. His voice was pleasant, he looked very ordinary; another unnoticed plain face with neatly cut brown hair and brown eyes.

"That was a very interesting lecture, Dr. Fox. Will you be travelling back to the Middle East in the near future?" he asked.

Catherine Fox, stepped back a little to put more space between them, "Not in the foreseeable future, it's politically difficult and safer to concentrate on my expertise in cuneiform writing," she replied, but the group noticed how her former openness had altered to a much more guarded stance.

"I suppose you want to return to the British Museum. Is it true that they have the best collection of cuneiform writing in the world?" he said, as he seemed to lean into her space again.

Catherine's round befreckled face had totally lost its friendliness, the once twinkling deep grey eyes now looked dull, the whole face closed and very officious. The tone of her voice had an edge of cold efficiency to it as she replied, " The finest collection. Now if you'll excuse me I have to get on." She brusquely collected her leather satchel and turned to leave.

"Oh, must you go, I was hoping you would join me for coffee," he said smiling, once more stepping towards her, and entering her invisible exclusion zone.

"I think not, I have to go," she said firmly moving away and walking towards the private back exit with a firm step."

"Boy! And he still stopped his car at the bus stop!" exclaimed Emily.

"Doesn't like being thwarted does he?" said Hotch.

"Do you think he followed her on to the train?" Morgan pressed.

"I don't know, I didn't notice him when I met her. She only said she'd just had a bad experience after the lecture, but then she didn't tell me about it until we were in the restaurant." confessed Reid.

"She's your girlfriend?" said J.J. softly, finally lots of little things falling into place.

Spencer smiled at her and nodded.

"Oh yeah, for how long?" teased Morgan.

"Call yourself a profiler," Spencer Reid faced his colleague, "Catherine and I have been together for 2 years."

Morgan looked at their genius with new eyes, just how much had he missed? He looked to Hotch who was eyeing him with amused eyes. So the Unit Chief knew all about it, he concluded and Gideon didn't look surprised. Morgan shook his head, 'there's none so blind' he said mentally kicking him self for missing the signals.

"I have run some of the CCTV footage from other investigations into the missing women. I've found him on the footage, always behind the victim, in 6 cases so far. Of course not all the investigations were as thorough as to collect footage of the victims, Garcia is working on some more as we speak. But so far I have him in Baltimore, Washington D.C., Chicago, Boston, Las Vegas and New York," stated Spencer quietly refocusing on to the case.

"Where do you think he's going to strike next?" asked Hotch, "Did you get anywhere with the car number?"

"The car was hired out to a David Smith, the driving licence was an old address in Albany, he hasn't lived there for 18 months but he paid by credit card and he seems to have several addresses and several other cards with a very good credit limit. This guy has money; I am still awaiting all the results I set into motion yesterday,"

As if on cue, Garcia suddenly appeared with several sheets of paper, "Sorry, Reid but I've got more hits with the victims, I've got him in New York a second time but with a different vic. and then in Los Angeles and with one of the Philadelphia women. Then there's the icing on the cake; I've found out why this guy has such good credit," Garcia paused, enjoying the moment in the limelight.

Reid indulged her, he thought she was looking particularly extrovert today; the blouse was a kaleidoscope of colour, in which her favourite vermillion seemed to just, but only just, predominate over gold, silver, electric blue and violet. Her skirt, by contrast, was a more sober electric blue. To finish the ensemble, she had matching electric blue barrettes in her wild hair.

"Well?" prompted Hotch.

"Mommy won a share of the New York lottery 6 years ago," she said triumphantly, "And his main home address is given as just outside Princeton according to the IRS. He got the lot after his mother died of cancer, 5 years ago and his sister committed suicide 2 months after."

"Genuine suicide?" asked Reid.

"Oh yeah, brother was in Paris when she shot herself through the head, the housekeeper found her and she was known to have been in a depressed state after her mother's death."

"Well, it explains why he can travel around at country at will and can rent out houses to stay in while he's lining up his next victim. We'll have to do some more checking about his spending patterns over the last 5 years, to see if it strengthens the case against him. We need to place him living in the areas when the victims disappeared." said Reid, feeling a quiet satisfaction that the threads seemed to be coming together to form a rich and complex pattern of movement behind a serial killer.

"You thinking that the death of his Mom followed by the sister are the stressor?" asked Emily.

"Yeah, at the moment I can only connect him with a victim just five years ago, but it looks like we are looking at a serial killer. Oh sorry Hotch, you asked if I had any idea where he might strike again. Well, plotting the dates and places the women disappeared, I think there could be a possible target in Princeton or Virginia because he only has 3 victims in each of these places so far, where as at the others it's 4 and 5. We have to take into account the open lectures on offer. He seems to go for History, Music, Art and Literature…all the liberal arts subjects that would attract women."

"And timing?" asked Emily.

"There are some open lectures at Princeton next weekend, they are ticket only so I'll need Garcia to check to see if he's booked a place. Then there is a special Emily Dickinson weekend series at Charlottesville campus in three weeks time; again it's a tickets only affair," said Reid, hoping that they will be able to amass enough evidence to prevent another tragedy.

"Well done," said Gideon, immediately gaining the total attention of the room, "I am proud of you, Spencer," he said. The master and pupil locked eyes; Spencer Reid stood before the presentation screen and felt the uniqueness of the moment. There was no bitterness or resentment in the mentor's voice just a warm respect for the profiler who had come of age. Spencer was proud that he had lived up to Gideon's belief in him to be part of an exclusive team at such a young age. Both men smiled at each other, it spoke volumes to Hotch who sensed his old friend passing the baton to a younger generation.

"Right then," Hotch took command and the team members were assigned specific tasks to make as watertight case as possible. Spencer took a moment to call Detective Vernon to keep his promise; sometimes keeping good relations with the various police departments they encountered could pay dividends should they ever cross paths in the future. He had learnt a great deal from Gideon but Hotch was having an influence in more subtle ways.

Four days later, David Smith was taken by surprise by an early morning F.B.I. raid upon his spacious house, in an exclusive suburb of Princeton. He couldn't believe that he was being taken into custody for questioning concerning the murder of at least 16 women, over the past 5 years. At the same time, his 4 other houses in the states of Illinois, California, New York and Massachusetts were raided. Dr. Reid had specifically instructed the teams to look for literature concerning public university lectures, waterproof overalls, women's clothing and female trinkets that might be construed as trophies. Gideon had stepped back from the investigation allowing Reid to conduct a series of interviews with the suspect.

At first David Smith, had played the bemused innocent man and had refused a lawyer, but Gideon and Hotch had watched outside as the unassuming Dr. Reid had quietly shown him the photographs, first of the smiling women and then of crime scenes. Reid noted the tiny flicker of disbelief from Smith that this youthful man had seen through his act of injured innocence.

"You have been very clever, choosing quiet, plain women. If your victims had been beautiful, people would have remembered them when enquiries were made into their disappearances. But you felt safe enough to use your own very common name, even to hire cars and rent houses. Oh yes, we have established that you were living in the specific areas at the time of their respective disappearances, you even attended the same public lectures. Credit card histories are very useful, not just yours but the victims' cards also. It's amazing how much we pay for by card these days, isn't it?" Reid said conversationally.

"Other men attended public lectures, it's pure co-incidence," Smith quietly stated with a slight smile.

"We have you on CCTV footage, at train stations and bus termini, always in a crowd behind the victim,"

"Come now, that's a little flimsy don't you think. If I have gone to a university area to attend a series of public lectures, of course I'm going to be seen doing normal things like using the public transport."

"But always at the same time as the victims?" Reid countered with his soft voice. "Once, a co-incidence, perhaps twice, but 22 times with ten different victims and not always on the same day as the lectures, over a span of 5 years?"

"You're totally wrong, it is pure co-incidence. A lawyer would easily argue my case. I fail to see what you think my motive would be?" the man said calmly, "I am wealthy, I can travel anywhere and believe me, wealth attracts female company, why me?" he asked with confidence.

"It was only when I saw the photographs of your mother and Mary that I realised," Spencer reached into the file on the desk taking out two photographs, both shared the brown eyes of David Smith. Reid placed the photographs on the table and turned them so Smith was looking at his mother and sister.

"Your mother died of cancer 5 years ago, despite all the money she had it could not buy her good health," Spencer gently said, carefully watching the suspect as he couldn't help himself from staring at the two significant women before him. "Mary was 2 years older than you and plain, even plainer than your mother, but she was the favourite child. You worked hard at school and went to college but your mother still ignored your achievements, and praised your rather ordinary sister. It was such a shame that your father had died when you were 6, you lost your role model and your Mom never looked at another man after his death.

You were brought up in a household of two plain women who did so much together, but you were never let into that world. You were the boy who grew into a man who could not be included in their world of shopping and gossip. You observed them; you saw how your Mom tried to boost Mary's self-confidence, always giving her extra money to buy make-up, make-up that would never adequately cover her freckles. When she won the money, your Mom did pay off the debt for your college education but you were still excluded from their world of travelling before your Mom became ill. Mary was devastated, she had always relied upon Mom for advice and self-confidence.

You had taken a perverse interest in your sister's life. No matter whatever she did, to try and make herself attractive, she failed. Mary was small and rounded, like your Mom, not the tall, slender type who wore the fashions in the fancy magazines she read. Mary was once a shop assistant, her conversation was hardly stimulating, but she was always reading trying to improve herself. Mary went to evening classes and you watched and saw how deflated she was when tentative friendships with men came to nothing. I think that is where you learnt about the insecurities of plain women, did you test out your early observations on the plain women you saw at college?" Spencer Reid asked softly, but he didn't expect a reply. The man opposite him seemed spellbound, listening but unable to respond to the profiler, a predator caught startled by the dazzling of unexpected light.

"Poor Mary was devastated by the death of the only person she thought who loved her and would ever love her. She gave no thought to your feelings; you were not wanted at your Mom's bedside, it was always your sister who was the great comfort to her. Even in her last moments, it was Mary who was there not you. Then she selfishly shot herself leaving you alone. You inherited a lot of money, and like you said, you need never be without a woman. But it's not the same is it, you like to gain the confidence of a plain woman," continued the agent. Spencer maintained his unthreatening demeanour, his voice was soft, utterly gentle as he expounded his theory.

"You had to make it interesting for yourself so you chose to use public university lectures, there was usually a plain woman there. You looked for the obvious signs of a relationship; a ring on the finger, or if they were unaccompanied, then you watched to assess their confidence. You made your move if they seemed to sit towards the back of the lecture room, or put space between themselves and the next member of the audience. If you felt satisfied that they were alone, you would approach at the coffee break or strike up a conversation at the end of the lecture. Always careful to give the woman all your attention with encouraging smiles, and engineering the conversation so they talked about their personal lives. You made a point of making them feel at ease, not showing too much knowledge about yourself. If they were unsure of the subject matter of the lecture, you held back because you didn't want to come across as a know all. I think you would agree with any observations they made, to re-assure them that you valued their insights and comments on the lecture and the world in general.

If you were lucky, you would arrange a further meeting for lunch; lunch is less threatening than dinner because it's daytime and a woman can always escape back to work. If she was playing harder to get, you might have picked up where she worked so you could engineer a chance meeting in the street. If not, then you might carefully follow her to make sure that she lived alone and didn't have family near by or a close friend who might act as her confidante, or alert the police quickly if she disappeared.

When you thought you had their confidence, you would somehow get them to the house you were using. You strangled them there; this was your greatest pleasure, this was where you achieved sexual release wasn't it, nothing is quite so good as throttling the life out of a plain woman. No absolutely nothing, you could have your pick of the beauties, they're two a penny if you've got money, but you can't always perform can you? The sexual thrill isn't there with a beautiful woman. But you don't rape these women, you don't have that desire to enter them, even after strangling them. The ecstasy is in the strangulation, pressuring the windpipe so you eventually crush it, while watching their eyes go dull as you squeeze out the life.

Do you like them to struggle, just a little bit? Heightens the orgasm does it? I think perhaps you do, that's why you choose isolated houses. Then if they fought back, there would be no one to hear them. It gives you time to strip them and wash away any evidence before carefully wrapping them in black bin liners ready for transporting them to a lonely spot. You like to place them in a beautiful place, a lonely but beautiful place where their souls can find peace. Mary left instructions for her ashes to be scattered, near your mother's, in a beautiful place, didn't she?"

David Smith had no voice to answer this unassuming man, he had never thought any one would make the connections, but even now he was sure that they didn't have conclusive proof, so Smith felt he was still safe. They wouldn't be able to convict; he could afford a good lawyer. But the quiet man was speaking again.

"So what do you keep as your trophy, killers like you always keep a memento?"

"If you're so convinced I killed these women then you tell me," Smith replied, shaking his head as if in disbelief at all he had heard.

Spencer Reid stared at the man's face and waited a few more seconds before saying, "I think you take a lock of their hair,"

"How did you know?" replied Smith and regretted the words as soon as they were said.

"Mothers with plain daughters always find something positive to say about their appearance, eyes and hair are the most common," Spencer replied with no change in his soft voice, but inside he felt a glow of satisfaction that they now knew what they were looking for in his houses.

Outside the room, Hotch and Gideon had watched the whole interview.

"We've got him!" beamed Gideon. It was a good to know that his gut feeling when he first met the genius had been justified. Reid was Gideon's natural successor, not quite yet, Reid needed a few more years experience before he moved up in seniority. But he was brilliant and the BAU would have his expertise for many years to come. Gideon felt more at ease with himself than he had for some months; he had some important calls to make today.

"He's had a good teacher," said Hotch and took out his phone to pass on the information for the search teams.

The next morning, while J.J. and Hotch were working on the content of the press conference to be held at midday, Reid sat alone in the conference room. On the round table before him lay a rosewood jewellery box, inlaid with a silver rose design on the lid. The inside was lined with soft crimson velvet, and in any other circumstances Reid would have admired the craftsmanship and the attractive design, but the contents of the box lay out on the table. There were locks of hair, ranging from a deep auburn to a rich brunette, each tied with a small piece of white satin ribbon which had also been threaded through a tag of lightweight card. On these small rectangles of white, in a small but precise hand, were written the full names of the owners of those locks of hair. It was chilling, there were 48 names, but only 16 bodies had been found and David Smith refused to say where he had disposed of the other bodies. Spencer Reid was certain that the man remembered because he was so meticulous in keeping these trophies.

Earlier, Gideon had sat with him as they matched the names to the missing persons lists. Gideon had looked up and said, "You can give these families some answers; they will now know that their loved ones were his victims and can mourn."

"But they don't have the total closure of a body," Reid had countered.

"Spencer, you may have to accept that this bastard is never going to tell anyone that information,"

Reid knew that his mentor was probably right but beside the 48 known locks were three just meticulously labelled, Sally, Corinne and Martha. He had gone to see David Smith but he refused to say anything about these three. Reid surmised that they were the very first victims, the ones he perfected his technique upon. These names didn't appear to match any Corinne, Martha or Sally in 'missing persons' descriptions so far. It seemed likely that they were young women who had fallen through the safety nets of family, friends and work colleagues; just drifters who had been picked up and no one had noticed their disappearance. It had been agreed to mention the locks of hair at the press conference in the hope that someone might remember these three women but in reality, none of the unit thought it was likely they would solve this mystery.

The case was front-page news and the lead television news report for the day. Although, J.J. and Hotch fronted the press conference, the Director had insisted that Spencer stand beside him on the podium. It was a triumph for the BAU and the Director praised the work of the whole team but especially the quiet determination of Dr. Reid to follow through an idea. Meanwhile, Dr. Reid had played down his role, saying that he had just been lucky that a vague idea had pointed them in the correct direction. Reid was never going to mention that an incident experienced by his beloved had been the initial spark.

The team had been given a weeks leave by the Director, who was happily giving as many interviews as possible, about this success of the BAU, to publicise a more positive image of the F.B.I. The team was grateful for the unexpected leave and they went their separate ways as soon as they could.

Spencer entered the house as quietly as he could, he could hear the strains of Bach's solo cello, suite No. 1 coming from the direction of Catherine's study. He crept silently and stopped outside the room, watching through the half open door. Einstein, the stray cat that had adopted them soon after they had moved into the house, was curled up asleep on the large floor cushion, that was placed near the wood burner. He was sure that Catherine only had that bright red cushion in the room for Einstein's comfort, he was a totally spoilt animal.

Catherine had her back to him, she was furiously tapping the keys, replying to e-mails and occasionally humming along to the music and oblivious to his presence. He knew why David Smith had targeted her that Saturday; she had the same hair colour and befreckled round face of his sister. Even the hairstyle was similar, although Mary's was slightly longer in the photographs they had found. He breathed deeply and could detect her familiar rose perfume and his world was filled with the warmth and understanding that Catherine provided for him. This was their retreat from the chaotic world outside and he knew that he needed this to be able to cope with the distress he faced in his work.

"When did you get in?" her voice broke into his thoughts.

He suddenly was embracing his Catherine, her soft curves accommodating his bony thinness; the hug was all the more special for having caught David Smith.

"The Director's given the team a weeks leave, so we all left as soon as we could, just in case he changed his mind," he said, enjoying this simple pleasure.

"I saw you on the news, I think all our neighbours did as well, you're quite a celebrity!"

"It will soon blow over, I don't want to talk about it," he said hoping that Catherine would understand that he needed to be taken well away from the recent case.

"I know," she assured, and didn't let go of him.

They stood for several minutes, quietly appreciating the comfort of the embrace, then Spencer sighed deeply and said, "Marry me,"


End file.
